Revival One Shots
by audreyslove
Summary: A series of one shots set in my Revival verse.
1. Chapter 1

**This came from a prompt about Regina and Robin considering expanding their family. TW: issues surrounding potential miscarriage**.

* * *

They try.

It's stupid to try. She is nearly 39, Robin is 42.

Her diagnosis is tough.

But they want to grow their family so badly. Robin so wants to be there this time, Regina wants him there this time, and she really loved being pregnant, til the stressful end, she did.

Insurance covers IVF now and techniques have improved since they looked into this before Henry's adoption. So they decide to go through it this time.

Even the doctors are cautiously optimistic.

There are so many tests, it seems her blood is drawn daily for two months. She feels like a pincushion, always being poked and prodded as they try to find exactly what prevents her body from keeping a new life.

And then there are the medications. They have to make messy cocktails full of hormones, you'd think a doctor would need to be in charge of mixing them up, but it's all trusted on them. Pour one glass bottle into another, mix, keep out those air bubbles, and load up an injection needle with a potion she tries to picture as magical instead of dangerous. Ots hard at first. There is a learning curve. But soon they become pros. They develop their own system for keeping air bubbles out of the needles, find just the angle to insert the needle in to lessen the time needed to be poked.

Many injections just go under her skin. He gives her those on her belly, and her abdomen is now dotted in purple, sore marks. She can give those to herself, too, and does, when she sees the pain in his eyes at seeing her battered stomach.

But Robin must give her the one that goes at the base of her spine, and she doesn't look, but she knows the bruising there is bad, from how tender it is and how Robin gasps when he sees her.

She tells him there's no pain (she lies, there is, but it's pain she will gladly endure, and it's not too awful, the pain).

It takes so much to make a baby when your body is refusing to do it on its own.

But it's working, the treatments. Things are beginning to grow in her, her uterus is swollen and heavy.

It turns out she's not too old. Her body responds, her body grows the eggs.

It turns out Robin's not too old. His men do the job.

Then one day there's a trigger shot, a huge needle he has to stick in her already bruised back, but Robin does it, apologizing for being too gently and needing to remove and re-insert.

She's put under, one Wednesday morning, and they harvest what they can from that stubborn body of hers.

8 eggs come out, and the doctor is so happy for them.

6 fertilize and 4 make it until day 5 embryos. They test them, all free of any genetic disorder, despite her age.

"This is good news," the doctor assures. "Let's take the healthiest. Just one to start out with. We will freeze the others."

One perfect embryo is injected into her womb, with a doctor looking at the sonogram while aiming for the perfect spot to drop it.

Regina feels he's playing a video game with a joystick in hand, especially the way he celebrates when it drops in just the right place (god she hopes a right place exists in there).

And then there is waiting.

Two weeks of fretting.

Two weeks of avoiding peeing on a stick because they tell her she can't, the hormones in her system are tricky and can throw off those tests. She has to wait for a blood test.

They take the day off work on the day of the test, not wanting to be bogged down with bad results. Right after the test, Robin drags her into a movie intent on distraction her until the results are ready, but she doesn't pay attention to any of it.

He's trying to convince her to go to an _amusement park_ for god's sake, when the phone rings.

Her breath catches until she hears the word _positive_.

Their embryo sticks.

.::.

She sticks, she holds, she tries.

But a few weeks later, Regina wakes up to blood.

So much blood.

They drive to the hospital and wait for the inevitable words of pity,hand holding when they find that little perfect embryo just couldn't hang onto her poisoned, toxic body.

And she keeps apologizing, over and over, and he keeps begging her not to, because it's not her fault, he says, it's not.

Her sheets are stained with blood, and she dreads seeing them, but when she makes her way back to bed, sheets are already clean and dry.

Robin got someone to clean them, and she doesn't know who, and doesn't want to know, either. She appreciates the gesture.

She doesn't want to see the evidence of what her body did to an innocent life.

.::.

Five percent of women miscarry at this point of pregnancy.

That's not insignificant.

She's unlucky. Not broken.

It's not her body. It's not the way she's handled herself. This isn't about eating too little kale, or eating too many tacos.

The doctors assure her this over and over again.

There are three perfect embryos left, frozen in time, hoping for a chance to grow inside her.

And the doctor reminds them.

"They are here waiting for you, should you decide to try again."

Robin doesn't push her to decide, doesn't ever bring it up, even.

He dotes on her. He's been treating her the way he did when they first fell in love, has since their reunion, luckily, so she doesn't see his actions as pity over the miscarriage.

He is just perfect. She has a wonderful husband, who still writes her love notes, who kisses her goodbye when he so much as leaves a room, who knows how she craves affection and gives it to her, reaching his hand out to grab hers while they eat at the kitchen table, just because he can, just because it makes her smile.

They are happy. They have a perfect life.

They have two beautiful children, who are healthy and happy and growing into good men.

Is it selfish to want even more than this?

Why can't they just be pleased with all the blessings they _do_ have?

She doesn't know the answer. She doesn't know why she desperately wants to experience pregnancy again, without being a widow in the midst of it. She doesn't know why she pictures her life with another messy, loud baby.

But months later, she still thinks of those three frozen embryos, three perfect mixtures of her and her husband.

She stays up late one night, and Robin knows she's not herself, but she's not ready to share and he's not willing to push. He's fast asleep next to her as she thinks of the possible tragedy, the pain of losing another one, as she looks at pictures of Roland and Henry. She has a perfect family, and there is no reason to believe that doing to it will make it any more perfect.

But then it hits her like a tidal wave.

Fuck it all, and fuck all the logical reasons why she should be content with everything she has, logic and reason don't apply to feelings if the heart. They never did.

You cannot do a pro/con list and carefully weigh options when your heart and soul is invested in one option.

She shakes Robin awake, not caring about the time. He looks dazed, a bit worried, but that fear drains out of his eyes when he sees her smiling face.

"What is it, love?" he asks, his voice hoarse with sleep.

"Im ready," she says, dipping down to kiss him. "If you still want to, I want to. To try the whole thing again, one more time, I just… I really want another baby, Robin."

He smiles, but it doesn't meet his eyes. He cradled her cheek and urges her to _come down here_ with him.

Her heart beats rapidly, she didn't expect anything other than excitement and support.

But there's something on his mind. He likes to say important things while he holds her, he's long since noticed that she responds better to when being touched with affection. And maybe is childish, but she _loves_ it, so she settles down, lays a head on his chest, and asks him what his reservations are.

"Watching you blame yourself was one of the worst moments of my life," he whispers rubbing a hand through her hair. "I love you so much, and you were in so much pain, and I can't, I—"

She hears his voice break, and tries to life her head up so she can properly see him, but he holds her head on his chest.

"I really want another child in any way we can, but if this doesn't work out, there's no blaming yourself allowed. Your body is perfect. Your body gave us two perfect sons. If it weren't for the endometriosis and... whatever else, we would never have Henry, so thank god for it because that boy is ours, he never belonged to anyone else. And who knows if we'd have a child as strong and caring as Roland without it. Your body is perfect. You can't hold anything against it. Do you understand?"

Tears are falling on his chest, she knows he feels them. She manages to croak out a _Yes_ , before he's drawing her back, laying her on a pillow and kissing away every tear away whispering she's perfect, that he loves her, loves every part of her, begging her to love herself — her whole self, every partof her — as much as he does.

She promises to try.

This time she will be in a much better place.

Because he's right. Her body knows what it's doing. It gave her so much, perhaps it's waiting to give her the perfect addition to her family. She doesn't know what sort of journey they have in front of them, but somehow, she's sure it will end well.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: This is for OQAngstFest, Prompts: 3, 10, 30, 36, 37, 38, 39, 46**

* * *

Since Robin returned, Regina has discovered a lot of things have changed. They were bound to, of course, years in confinement change a person. He's still very much the man she was married to, but he has new fears, a new temper, a new sense of comfort in each situation.

And she's never sure where his head is at. They are planning Henry's birthday, and Regina casually mentions that Henry is excited to see David and Mary Margaret.

"You are inviting him?" he asks, as if he's entirely shocked.

"David? Of course. Henry adores him."

She watches Robin go beet red then, and she knows she struck a nerve.

"Robin, we talked about this, there's nothing between me and David anymore, he is happy with Mary Margaret, and—"

"I know all that! But if you keep repeating it all the time, I'm going to start wondering if you're hiding something!"

"That is fucking low!" Regina bites back. "Look I get it, we fucked, okay? A lot. So did you and Ingrid and god knows I have to smile and make nice at every work event you have, so what's the difference? David and I broke up, I'm with you, and he's with Mary Margaret, and we are all happier this way. And you _know_ it, so stop. He loves Henry, and Henry loves him, and you know what else? He loves _you._ Just let our son spend his time with everyone he loves on his birthday."

"Oh yes, let's invite David to every family function there is because we all know how much he means to _my_ children. And don't think I didn't see you thanking him for helping Henry with that summer art project. Why didn't you ask me before you went to him for homework help?" Robin scowls.

"I didn't ask, Henry did!" Regina sighs. "Do you want to go wake up our son and tell him he's no longer allowed to talk to David, despite what you _promised_ him?"

"Oh it's not just that, it's _everything_. You all act like I can't do anything for myself and you still treat David like he's your savior and I'm _sick_ of it. You all tiptoe around me, every time you want something you go running off to someone else. If you really think I'm so helpless in your lives just fucking leave me!"

It still feels like he just got back, and she can't even process the idea of leaving him again, has no idea why he's so casually throwing it out like that.

"Do you _want_ me to leave you?" she asks, "Because you're sure acting like you do right now, and I need to know what's going on with you."

"I want you to leave me, yes, if you actually think I'm as useless as you obviously appear to."

"Robin," she pleads, "sit down and take a deep breath because I know you do not mean this—."

"Stop telling me what I mean and what I don't. I mean this."

"Sit down, let's work on this."

"Oh, what's the fucking point of arguing anymore? You keep coddling me and running to other people to support you. We'll never be a family again, not like I want. It's time we all admit it. We don't work together."

He grabs his keys and walks towards the door, and Regina's jaw drops open.

"Are you honestly telling me you want to walk away from all of this? What are you saying? Do you want a divorce?"

"What I want isn't possible. I came back too late," he grunts, gathering his keyes and wallet.

"What do you mean? I thought you loved me?" Regina asks. She's so sure he will rush back and assure her that he does.

But he doesn't. He storms out, leaving Regina alone, unable to follow, with two sleeping boys upstairs.

.::.

She tells herself not to worry. Over and over again, she tells herself not to be worried.

He's coming home. Maybe he went out to blow off steam, maybe he's crashing at John's for the night.

He's an adult. He can take care of himself.

But he left her once before and then never came back, and that's always on her mind.

Maybe she does coddle him. Maybe she is protective of him. But it's not for his benefit. It's for hers. She doesn't really know if she could survive him leaving her again.

She tries to sleep, but it doesn't take.

She's not even sure what to tell the kids when they wake up.

She should probably ask him about that… but she's not sure she wants to know the answer.

When her cell phone rings at four AM, she breathes a sigh of relief and answers.

Robin's voice is slurred and soft. "R'gina? 'M so sorry, love. Just wanna let ya know 'm safe. The nice officer let me call you."

"Where the hell are you?"

" 'M at the police station, just wanted you to know—"

"Are you calling me _from jail!?_ _"_ Regina asks incredulously. "Robin, what happened?"

"Sorry I keep disappointing you," he mumbles. "This is the officer, here."

"Ma'am?" a smooth voice is on the other line, very calm, nonthreatening. "This is officer August Booth."

"Hi, is my husband alright? What happened, this isn't like him, he—"

"I know, Mrs. Locksley. He was just a bit drunk and crashed into a mailbox on the street nearby. Got angry at it and knocked it clean over, pretty sure it wasn't properly attached to the ground though. Anyway, I picked him up but once I realized who he was and… you know, the time he's had, I figured no sense in charging him or putting him in the system. You can pay for the mailbox repair or replacement, right?"

"Of course," she murmurs, unable to keep herself from thinking of Robin toppling over a mailbox, drunk as fuck on a lonely street. "I'll pick him right up. I just need to get someone to watch the kids."

You know who she could absolutely call right now who would watch the kids no questions asked? David. But that's not an option, so she will have to try someone else.

"It's not my business ma'am, but I'd let him crash here for a few hours, he's going to be sleeping it off anyway. He kept saying his friend John would pick him up but he seemed to have trouble finding the number.."

She's furious he's in jail and almost more furious she wasn't going to be his first call.

And hurt. Really hurt.

"He changed his number recently," Regina confirms. "Robin must have never entered it in."

"Why don't you go back to bed? Your husband will call you in the morning."

"Fine," Regina says bitterly. She tries, oh how she tries, to treat this like any other night. But she cannot will her body to sleep.

There's too much fear, too much uncertainty, too much to lose.

When the sun rises, so does she. She invents a lie as to Robin's whereabouts for the children, saying he went on an early morning run to the gym (the truth is such a stark contrast that it's almost funny). But as the summer morning ends and afternoon is starts, and Robin still hasn't called, Regina starts to worry.

And she starts to wonder.

So she calls the police department in the bathroom, so Henry and Roland don't hear.

"I'm calling for Robin Locksley? He was picked up last night," she explains. "Officer Booth has picked him up? I'm wondering if I need bail, or anything to pick him up?"

"Please hold," says the friendly receptionist.

And then she waits.

And waits.

"I'm so sorry. He was picked up this morning."

"By who?" she asks.

"I'm sorry. That is all I know."

And now she's really scared. And really hurt.

She's nearly positive he said everything he did out of anger, but….

Maybe it has been more serious. Maybe he is tired of having the same old fight over and over.

Maybe he'd be happy completely starting over his life, instead of trying to fit into his old one.

She texts him back a sarcastic reply.

 _Thanks for letting me know you were out of jail. That was really nice of you. I've been worried sick since your last call and now have no idea what to tell the kids about where you are._

She fights back tears and tells the children she's going to take them to the pool for the day.

Henry asks if his dad is coming. This time she tells them he had a bit of work to do this weekend.

They believe her, because they trust her, and because doesn't lie to them. Not usually.

She hates lying to the kids. Terribly.

.::.

The pool is packed today. Regina is both grateful and worried to see Will with Ana and her extended family. There are tons of people to occupy Henry and Roland so they don't catch on to how worried she is. She's welcome for the distraction for her kids, but she had been hoping that Robin called will to break him out of jail.

She's considering asking if he heard from him when Will jumps the gun, pulling up a chair next to her and asking an innocent "So where is Robin?

Regina tenses and the thought of admitting to marital problems so early after reuniting. It's humiliating.

But she has no idea what lie to tell, and the truth is just easier.

"I honestly don't know," she whispers back, as the children play. She decides to leave jail out of it, in case Robin doesn't want anyone to know. "He left last night, got a bit upset. I know hei called me and told me he was safe but I don't know where he ended up."

Will furrows his brow. "Shit, that doesn't sound like Robin. Did you call John?"

"He doesn't have John's new number," she mutters.

"Well he wouldn't be at David's," Will says as if the idea is preposterous.

Regina laughs dryly. "Definitely not."

"Look, he called ya to check in, right? So just give it some time, I'm sure—"

Her phone vibrates then, and she looks down and sees Robin's face on her cell phone screen.

She groans and shares a look with Will.

"We've got the kids. Take all the time you need," he urges.

She stalks towards the edge of the community pool, a little empty patch of grass, and answers the phone with a cool detached _Hello._

"Regina, hey. I got your texts. I'm so sorry. I didn't even remember calling you last night. When they told me to call for a ride this morning I called John, I figured you wouldn't want to take the kids to a police office."

"I wouldn't want that." She pauses. "But it's not really about my wants. I didn't want you to leave last night, and I sure as hell didn't want a phone call at three AM from a police officer. And I didn't want to have to lie to the kids without knowing what is going on."

"I'm sorry," Robin, for his part, _does_ sound sorry. "I was startled awake around seven AM and they told me I could call for a ride. So I called John—"

"How?" she asks, "You couldn't call him last night, from what the officer said."

"I put him in my contacts by a nickname and musta forgot, fuck I remember none of this, I'm really sorry."

"Why didn't you come back?" she asks angrily, "You could have had John drop you off right away, but—"

"Because I didn't want the kids to see what a mess I was! I've never been that _drunk_ before. I smelled terrible and I've let the kids down enough. I couldn't let them down again."

She could almost understand that, and had he called her first thing in the morning to explain she might not be as angry. But it's late now, and she had to handle the kids all morning without their father. Two children who already have an unhealthy fear of losing their dad again. It's just so unfair.

"Speaking of the kids, what do I tell them?" She tries to keep her voice steady, withotu the flare of anger and pain she feels laced within it. "About you, um, about where you were and if you are coming home?"

"What did you tell them this morning?"

"First I said you were out for a run. Then I said you got called in to work." Regina winces. Not very good lies. The boys may suspect something — Henry especially.

Robin speaks then, his voice pleading and meek, something she isn't used to hearing from him. "Can you tell them you have to help me with something? If… if you can. I don't want to talk about this over the phone."

Oh fuck, he's going to leave her.

Her veins feel icy, her body seems so _heavy,_ but agrees to pick him up at John's and figure it out from there.

She makes her way to Will, fake smile plastered on her face, ready to ask a favor of him.

"We got 'em," he says before she can even ask, looking over at Ana, who nods.

"The more, the merrier! We can take them for the rest of the day, actually, it's my niece's birthday. We are going for pizza in a few hours, if that's okay?" She looks sympathetically at Regina. "Seriously, take your time."

Will always was her least favorite of Robin's friends, and a few years ago she couldn't imagine leaving the boys in his care. But she has to admit that he picked well with Ana, and he's been… so much more mature since they started dating. She makes a mental note to do something special for her birthday.

"Thank you," she breaths, throwing a coverup over her bikini and slipping into her sandals.

She says a brief goodbye to Roland and Henry and then grabs Roland's booster seat from the car and drops it off with Ana, "Just in case" she isn't back on time.

She knocks on John's door with a bit of trepidation. But he answers with a warm smile, looking grateful.

"Hey, he just ran to the bathroom." He lets her in, adding, "He really feels like shit about what happened."

"I bet," she murmurs doubtfully.

"No really! He's been a wreck since he woke up, I was telling him to calm down and—"

Robin picks that exact moment to emerge from the powder room.

He doesn't _look_ like a man who had a rough night. He's showered it seems, and last night's clothes seem clean. She bets John had something to do with that.

Robin says his hellos, but Regina is too angry, too worried to respond. She mutters a (hopefully) polite goodbye to John and makes a beeline for the door.

Robin follows along behind her, but she tries not to look at him until he's slammed the car door and is beside her, seated safely in the passenger seat.

"You look nice," he grunts.

She remembers she is wearing a small fitted eyelet lace dress that is a bit see through.

"We were at the pool," she grumbles, but she's sure he can see he hint of her black bikini underneath her dress so what does it matter? "I was just trying to keep the kids distracted as to their father's whereabouts."

She's hoping he didn't think she dressed like this _for him._

"Sorry." Robin has the decency to look remorseful as he says the words, and Regina can only sigh and nod.

"Where's your car?" she asks, unsure of where to even _start._

"Fuck," Robin groans. "I forgot about that. Umm…"

He reaches in his pockets for his keys, as if trying to jog a memory. "I honestly forget."

"You lost it? You lost _your car?"_ she asks, incredulous.

"It's not los,t it's just… temporarily unable to be found," Robin groans.

He's digging in his wallet, looking at crumpled receipts, then it hits him. "Parking lot of the Rabbit Hole, I remember now."

Regina nods and starts to drive. "Should I drop you off now?"

"I don't care about the car, right now, We should talk, Regina, I never meant to—" Robin mutters.

"We can talk at home. The kids are with Will and Ana. I just don't want to talk to you about this while I'm driving."

They drive for a few more minutes until dread and silence are overwhelming, to where she's almost relieved to hear him speak again..

"You said that you thought I loved you. And I do, so much. I don't know how to _not_ love you. I love you and the kids so much." Robin's hand goes to her shoulder while she drives, but she's too upset in this moment to take the comfort he's offering.

"Well then why did you leave?" She is jumping back and forth between anger and concern, she loves him but he scared her so terribly last night. "Why did you just go off without telling me where for a whole night, and then go on some bender... And I asked you if you wanted a divorce, Robin, and you said _nothing._ " Tears well, she wipes at them, trading hands on the steering wheel. "I spent all morning trying to figure out how to break it to the kids, how to tell them that after getting back together you and I are apart."

She refuses to look at him, but she can hear the self loathing in his voice. "I am so, so sorry. I don't… I really don't want that. I just want to be the father the kids deserve and the husband you deserve. I'm failing at both."

"I already lost you once, you know," Regina snaps, her eyes focused on the road. "I already had to break bad news to the kids, and I don't want to do it again. But it feels like I'm losing you again, these past few months I've felt like you're slipping away. I don't know how to make it the way it was before."

"I don't either," his voice wavers a bit. "But I want to work on it."

And then silence returns until they park and walk into their house.

She shuts the front door and walks to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water for herself and one for him.

When she hands him the bottle he draws her in close, just a hand on her back guiding her.

She's still angry and hurt, but she _misses_ him, and the hug is welcome.

"I'm sorry I left like that." His words are soothing, and god how desperately she wants to believe them. "It's just… I feel like you all would be better without me."

"I thought we worked on that," Regina sighs into his neck, still hugging him tight. "We need you, we love you. Just like you are now."

"But I don't want to be just that. I want to be more than that. I want to be a man you can rely on, you can come to with your problems, instead of not burdening me with anything and sharing with… others."

He doesn't say it, but she knows where this is going.

She pulls out of his embrace so she can look him in the eye and make him believe her.

"I don't talk to David without you being there." she says defensively. But he only reaches for her hand, holding it as if it were precious, saying _I know, that's not what I meant._ "I don't know what to do," she admits. "Henry grew so close to David over his past four years, Robin, and I know you hate him, but—"

"I don't _hate_ him," Robin corrects. "It's just… " He sighs deeply. "I thought I would be better by now. It's been months. We're married, the kids have a routine, I have a job. On paper everything is normal. But I still don't _feel_ normal. And you still don't confide in me, or let me help you guys — none of you do, not even Roland."

She's a bit offended at that, and how can she not be? How can he not see how much they all need him and share with him? She feels the anger returning, the need to defend herself rising.

"First of all," she brushes her hair behind her eyes. "The kids absolutely depend on you, if you don't see that it's _your_ problem. And I feel I confide in you and share with you, but maybe I don't rely on you as much as before. I functioned for a long time without you," Regina reminds cooly. "I can take care of myself now."

"I know, and I love that you're independent. It's just hard to know my place," Robin explains, crashing down on the couch with a huff of frustration. "I'm trying to be their father. But the boys still want David for so much—"

"Oh, for art projects and craft ideas," Regina waves her hand. "Like they would if you never left. He's an artist, and a good one, so—"

"Can you please stop singing his praises, it's _really_ not what I need right now," Robin falls backwards against the couch with a groan. "Because he's this happy, well adjusted man you fit so well together with and I just feel clunky and useless when it comes to everything. _Everything."_

 _"_ Everything?" Her eyebrow raises. There's been some aspects of their lives that feel the opposite to her. All things considered, it's been surprisingly smooth transitioning into this family. She supposes she's not in his head, though.

"I have so much to learn at work and I feel like I'm behind, years behind. And I am," he groans. "I never used to feel like the idiot, but I do now. And then I come home and it's you and the kids like this team I'm not a part of. And then I think of how it looked when you were with David and I — are we good parents, Regina? I mean I know you are, but are we good parents _together?_ The way you were with David? So often it feels like we're out of synch, like I don't belong."

So it's really not about David. He's more frustrated with himself and David is a model he's holding up far too high for what he needs to be (or even, what he needs to beat).

She wishes he would have talked to her sooner. She could have alleviated these fears.

"I _never_ feel like you don't belong in this family," Regina admits, narrowing her eyes. "The four of us are a team. David was good with the children, but he was never their father. He _helped_. I ran things when it involved them."

"It didn't look like that. David looked like he had a great deal of influence in how they were raised."

"He did, he just didn't get a say in how they were raised. He deferred to me on the children always. And then he knew my preferences so he would help me discipline and help me explain things but… it was different. David knew it wasn't his place to challenge me. You're their father. It's different. Of course there are going to be issues. You don't _have_ to defer to me all the time. We are going to disagree, isn't that part of coparenting?"

"I don't know," Robin admits. "I just wanted things to be perfect for you guys and I feel like it never will. I just… it's a learning curve. I was making so much progress for a bit and lately it just feels like I'm barely inching forward."

That makes sense. He's not progressing as much as he once was, and he feels like he's treading water. These last few issues, these are the hardest.

"I think we are growing closer every day." Regina sits down next to him, the anger in her chest loosens, and she's able to pat him on the knee. "It hasn't even been eight months since we got together—"

"That seems like a helluva a long time," Robin sighs. "I know some of my insecurities are shit and I try to bury those feelings down. I guess I fail sometimes and I'm sorry. You and the kids didn't sign up for this."

Robin puts his head in his hands and crouches over. He hasn't been upset in quite awhile. She rubs his back lightly, fingers tracing over the cotton tee shirt.

"We all gladly signed up for this, Robin. We love you, we want you in our lives. This is the most precious gift we ever could have been granted. We have the most important person in our lives again. I would have given up so much to make this happen, you have no idea." And he really doesn't, she doesn't want to explain any more than this. "There's an adjustment period but we will get through it. Give yourself some credit. You came back less than a year ago."

"So I didn't fuck this all up yesterday?"

She realizes it's been weighing on him, he's expected her to call it quits, which is ridiculous. Does he even know how much she loves him?

"Of course not," Regina says with a little smile.

She hears his sigh of relief, but then she has to add, "But I don't want to have the same fight over and over again, Robin. We can't keep this up forever. I _am_ walking on eggshells with you, I wasn't at first but these last couple of months, I have been."

"God, I know I've been fucking it up, as I'm so sorry, I am trying—"

He shifts away infinitesimally from her, but it feels like so much more.

She knows he's trying. She's seen the way he tries to fight silently through every nightmare, every triggered traumatic moment. He's trying, but he's doing it all wrong.

"I know Robin. You're trying so hard to be perfect and not let me know anything wrong that it's sabotaging. You aren't talking to me so I don't know what's going on. You have to tell me what you're thinking and feeling. Even if you think it makes you sound weak. Because no matter what, you're never going to seem weak to me. You survived… everything. Handling some family issues is nothing. I _want_ to help you with this."

"I'm sorry for all of this," Robin sighs. "And I don't hate David. And I don't think you love him or want him back. I don't like picturing you two together, but…" He laughs nervously. "I'm not jealous of him for that."

"Then why?" Regina asks softly.

"Well…" Robin draws the word out, scratching behind his ear. "I think he just reminds me of everything I'm not. He just seems so _comfortable_ and at ease with our family, and I don't feel that yet. I am still learning new things about the kids. He knows them better than I do. And I try not to resent him for that, but I do."

Oh.

She had been so focused on proving that David and her weren't romantic anymore she had completely forgotten the other aspect to their relationship - something that would have happened even if they never kissed.

David knows these children, inside and out. He's an integral part of their lives, one she would be loathe to remove. But if it's hurting Robin, maybe she has to.

"Do you want me to tell Henry he can't call David anymore?"

"No," Robin says quickly, and then, "I mean, I don't want him to be forced to not see David, I just wish he wanted to spend more time with me and less with him."

"Okay." Regina bites her lip, thinking of a solution. "Let's scale back David's involvement. Bit by bit. He's still going to be at events like Henry's birthday, but we don't need Thanksgiving with him, he doesn't need to be there all the time." She pauses and then adds, "Henry might still need help with his art projects from his Uncle David, but if he needs homework help, he goes to you first."

"I'd like that," Robin admits. "I know it's selfish, but—"

"It's not selfish, Robin. You've been more than accommodating about this. Many men would have insisted we cut all contact. This is very generous. When it comes to David's involvement, _talk_ to me. If it feels like too much, tell me."

"I'll try." Robin tries to smile, but it doesn't quite meet his eyes.

"And don't ever walk out like that. You _know_ I hate that, we've talked about that. _I_ get scared when you leave, _I_ am still traumatized, I just—"

"I know," Robin soothes. "I got in my own head for too long and it all just blew up. And I hate myself for hurting you, I really do. And if you need to not be here for awhile, or for.. I don't want you thinking I believe I can just come back at any time after I do something like this. I can leave, and stay away for as long as it takes to earn your v wqsQtrust back."

"No, I don't want you to leave. Ever."

She feels her eyes stinging. She can't picture even one night away from him, hopes she won't ever have to experience that again.

Robin's hand molds to her knee, squeezing gently.

"Then I won't leave, ever. Not unless you want me to. I don't know how I ended up drinking so much so fast, and getting violent, apparently on a mailbox. But I won't hurt you guys. You know that right?"

Reina smiles through her tears, nodding delicately. "Of course, I'm now concerned that our poor mailbox may be at risk…" she jokes.

She laughs. Regina doesn't realize how much she _needed_ a laugh until she does. The conversation was too heavy, too serious.

There's been too much of that lately.

"Will and Ana have the kids. Do you want to pick them up? They should still be at the pool."

"Can we just… stay here awhile?" Robin asks, shifting so his arm wraps around her. "Just for a bit, I want some alone time alone with you."

They take the lazy afternoon and early evening to reconnect, talk more, share a meal, and just… be.

And when they come to collect Roland and Henry, they are entirely oblivious to any problem, far too excited about a day of swimming, pizza and cake to remember the morning's rough start.

Robin tucks the boys in that night, getting out Roland's favorite pajamas and grabbing their favorite book without even being asked.

Regina smiles as he falls into a routine that you'd never know is new to him.

She doesn't know what he's worried about. He's like a missing piece of the puzzle for them, and since he came back, it feels like everything finally fits the way she had hoped.


End file.
